


Alcohol You Later

by WodensSkadi



Series: Drabbles & Prompts [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Protective Roadhog | Mako Rutledge, Reinhardt is gay for life, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 11:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14135259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WodensSkadi/pseuds/WodensSkadi
Summary: Once a month there was a brief and tentative truce called between members of Overwatch, Talon, and free agents like the junkers or Hanzo. During this time groups of fighters with similar combat styles banded together, commiserated and laughed over shared experiences. For Roadhog, this meant he shared drinks with the other heavy hitters who had declared themselves the “Tanks.”





	Alcohol You Later

**Author's Note:**

> The whole premise for this is ridiculous but when has that stopped any of us?  
> Mostly I was inspired by the artwork depicting the tanks all hanging out and Roadhog video chatting with Junkrat.  
> And the one where Roadhog falls over wheezing and claiming he'd die for Junkrat's nose freckle.

Once a month there was a brief and tentative truce called between members of Overwatch, Talon, and free agents like the junkers or Hanzo. During this time groups of fighters with similar combat styles banded together, commiserated and laughed over shared experiences. For Roadhog, this meant he shared drinks with the other heavy hitters who had declared themselves the “Tanks.” Reinhardt brought the beer, Zarya supplied the vodka, Hana provided snacks, and Roadhog brought his appetite. All of this was done without Winston’s knowledge since he’d go… well, bananas if he found out (Rat would be proud of him for that one). And considering Mako and Aleksandra couldn’t be bothered to set their prejudices aside towards omnics, Orisa was excluded from the meetings as well. Roadhog didn’t see the point in its presence anyway, Orisa couldn’t drink and he couldn’t see how it could enjoy any games.

They had been playing poker but it had dissolved as the drinks flowed and Reinhardt was challenging Zarya to an arm wrestling match, sweeping cards off the table as he boldly proclaimed that he was stronger than her. Roadhog was too deep in his bottle of vodka to be annoyed at the abrupt ending of the current hand. He shouldn’t have gone toe to toe with Reinhardt earlier on the beers. Mixing and overindulging was a bad idea but halfway through the night he began to feel melancholy and drinking eased the loneliness. He’d grown too accustomed to Rat’s brand of noise, that even when surrounded by other loud people the room felt too quiet and still. 

Roadhog went back to video chatting with Junkrat on his phone. The junker was not happy with “Team Defense.” He was standing outside smoking and bitching about Mei and Hanzo both being stuck up pricks, barely a step down from suits, as far as he was concerned. He tried making friends with Torbjorn and Widowmaker but felt snubbed by both of them. He was ranting animatedly and had to keep relighting his cigarette since it kept going out as he waved his hand and spoke at length. 

Hana peeked over Roadhog’s shoulder and stuck her tongue out. “Tanks only, Mako!” she commanded and snatched his phone away, hitting the end button. 

He growled intimidatingly at her but she laughed it off.

“You can call him later,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I feel bad for you, Mako. You always have to babysit him.” 

“Not his babysitter,” he gruffed.

Zarya was inspecting the glossy pink nails of her left hand while Reinhardt yelled and attempted to push her right arm over unsuccessfully. “Are we discussing the rat man you protect? He is…” she began.

“Annoying? Filthy? Insane? Unskilled?” suggested Hana.

A wave of frustration surged up inside him. Junkrat was none of those things. …Okay, he was some of those things. Fine, he was most of those things. But he wasn’t unskilled. He was a genius hidden under all of that grime and feral behavior.

Reinhardt howled his dismay as Zarya ended the contest with an easy victory. He then turned his gaze to the masked man. “For truce night, my friend, you should feel confident that no harm will come to your employer. Take the night off and drink! Be merry with your friends! You deserve to not be burdened at least on these nights.”

Roadhog stood, gripping the table as he stumbled heavily about. He had done more than enough drinking already. In fact, he normally didn’t drink to this point around other people - alcohol had the ability to make him lose his stoicism, dislodge memories of his buried past and upsetting emotions always bubbled up. It was just that he missed his Rat. He didn’t want to be burdened with keeping up a front around these people. And he did want to be happy with his friends. Friend. 

“Wait! Where are you going? You can barely walk,” Hana exclaimed and placed a tiny hand on his arm; not that it did much to stop his swaying.

“Taking Reinhardt’s advice,” he grumbled solemnly. “Gonna find Jamie.”

Zarya’s shockingly pink hair tilted in contemplation, but he couldn’t focus enough on her face to analyze her expression.

“He is not just your employer,” she said slowly.

“It’s okay, Roadhog! We won’t tease you about your poor choice in friends,” Hana snickered. “I know from experience that the Outback is full of weirdos.”

Roadhog shook his head vehemently and realized that making the world spin was a bad idea. He fell back on the bench he’d been occupying against the wall with a pronounced thud. He just wanted to crawl into bed with Junkrat and his pachimari collection. They were so cute.

Zarya pushed over a bottle of water. “The pachimari?” she chuckled.

Fuck, was he thinking out loud?

“Yes,” giggled Hana.

He groaned and leaned his head back, pushing the mask up briefly to down the cold water. “No. Yes. Not just the pachimari,” he said with a defeated sigh. His chest felt tight with overwhelming emotions that he normally had the cognizant ability to keep shoved down. He’d always been an emotional drinker. 

Reinhardt slammed a fist on the table. “He is - you are warme Brüder! You enjoy the pleasures of male bonds and the passions between your comrades. Say no more, dear friend, I have cared deeply for men I served with before. It is a great love to support your friend on the battlefield and then embrace passionately after a hard-won victory!”

Roadhog sagged with relief. At least Reinhardt understood. “He’s just so smart,” he said. “I’d kill anyone who stood in his way.” His words would come off as terrifying if his voice didn’t sound so broken. He was getting sappier and more emotional the more he spoke. This was why silence and threats were easier. “And I’ve memorized each of his damn freckles. When he was asleep and still - I counted them. Told him he was an English treat: spotted dick. Idiot laughed for an hour over that one and kept asking me to tell other people...didn’t want to share that with other people though. Rat’s fucking aces, and he’s mine.” God, he was going to cry in front of these assholes. He checked the straps of his mask to reassure himself - at least there would be no physical evidence of his tears. 

He felt awkward pats on his shoulder and reached over and hugged Hana who screamed briefly in surprise.

“I love him as much as I love pachimari…!” he wailed and buried his masked face in her petite shoulder. She was thin, like Rat, but she wasn’t nearly tall or muscled enough to be a good substitute. Too soft. But not soft enough to be a pachimari plush. God, he wanted to go home to his loves. He wanted his damn phone back so he could talk to Jamie.

“Ah...there, there, Roadhog,” Hana attempted to pat his shoulder. “I’m gonna call your smelly boyfriend and tell him to come pick you up, okay? Then you can, um, ‘go home to your loves.’”

He released her begrudgingly and flopped his upper torso on the table and closed his eyes. Even with his limited sight through the lenses, things were spinning too much to video chat anyway. 

\---

Roadhog groaned and rolled over, away from the loud sounds emanating near his face.

“G’day, my ‘warm brother’ or whatever the fuck that ol’ cunt called us,” Junkrat cackled while climbing over him. “Been watching videos of your drunken escapades last night. Yer friends were kind enough to forward ‘em my way.”

Roadhog groaned again once he realized how bad of a hangover he had, and how much worse Junkrat was going to make it.

“Knew ya liked me a lot, mate. But didn’t know ya loved me. Love me much as your turnip-octopus thingies even.” 

A sloppy kiss was pressed against his mask and Roadhog was pretty sure he was too old to feel this awkward and embarrassed, but here he was, wishing for old age and his morbid obesity to kick in suddenly and end his suffering.

“Later,” he growled (begged) and shoved Junkrat’s head against his hairy chest. Much later.

Junkrat sniggered and nuzzled between his soft pecs, placing kisses on his chest. “Waited long enough for you ta root me, guess I can wait a few hours to hear proclamations of yer undying love for yers truly.”

Roadhog thought about shoving the little shit off of him and the bed, but he just wrapped an arm around his waist and rolled over to spoon him. “Say another word and you go back to sleeping in your damn shed.”

There was a small intake of air as Junkrat readied a response but wisely chose to just adjust Roadhog’s arms around him more comfortably instead.


End file.
